


Double the Fun, But Trouble to Come

by NightFoliage



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Feelings, Foursome, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Memory Loss, Paranoia, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Post-Gravity Falls, Self-cest, Sex, Shower Sex, Stancest - Freeform, Stancest Secret Santa Exchange 2018, Temporary Amnesia, Twincest, copies of Stan and Ford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-10-18 16:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFoliage/pseuds/NightFoliage
Summary: Prompts:-Stan doesn't regain his memories but he ends up in a relationship with Ford anyway-Biker Stan-Stancest foursome with their copier clones-Old Stans after-sex fluff-Both Stans fall into the portal AU-Rick and Morty crossover of any kindSummary: Stan looks up in the mirror one day and finds himself not knowing where he is or what’s going on. He instinctively bolts, but not before meeting his look-alike (what the fuck), who apparently knows what’s going on, and follows him for the ride. They hide out in the woods until Stan can calm down and figure out what’s happening.All he knows is that the forest is weird and his look-alike is being awfully nice.





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: So, per what I think is becoming my MO, I used all the prompts in this fic. As a result, some of the prompts aren’t quite precisely what was requested, but I hope this fic satisfies. Also I added a few more elements to it after I gifted it. (Some pretty big changes actually, what was once about ~6750 words turned into what it is now.)

Stan finds himself standing in front of a sink, water rushing out of the tap. The water is warm and he has suds on his hands. He finds himself automatically rinsing them off, his hands knowing what to do even though his brain doesn’t know what it wants yet. Then he splashes some water on his face, which gets onto his glasses. 

“Ugh.” He wipes his glasses with his hands and face still wet. 

It feels like the start of a bad day. 

When his glasses, face, and hands are finally dry, he takes a look at himself in the mirror. He looks good. The thought comes out of nowhere, but it’s there and it fills him with warmth. Sure he has some wrinkles and his hair’s thinning, but he’s not doing too badly. Way better than in the past when he was thin and gaunt and-

Stan finds himself leaning over the sink, grabbing a hold of the bowl before he can fall over. 

His body wants to slide sideways, but he manages to hold on. However, his mind is already falling. There’s a massive abyss where his memories should be and he’s disorientated at the fact that there is absolutely nothing there. He knows he’s Stan, knows that he’s here and safe-

But then where is here?

He takes a look around: normal residential bathroom (not a prison, not an asylum, that was good), small, maybe on the older side, small window on the wall. Outside; it’s dark, but he can see that he’s in the middle of the woods, second floor. He’s far too high to make the jump down, not with these old bones. (He may have to anyway.)

It looks like he locked the door. Good, good, he can collect himself before leaving. He immediately swipes a bar of soap, a roll of toilet paper, and whatever little odds and ends into his pockets. Speaking of pockets…

There’s nothing in them except- ah ha! He pulls out his wallet. Nothing unusual and a good amount of money. 

But then he pulls a crinkled up photo. Is this his family? He can’t- he doesn’t remember- he runs a finger across each of their faces. A young woman with fiery red hair, a young portly man with a big grin, two kids- twins, a boy and a girl. He doesn’t know why the detail of them being twins is important, it just is. 

But then he sees the final person, a man with the same face as his. 

He’s a twin, too. 

Stan searches the man’s face. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for only that he’s looking for  _ something _ . They look very similar with some negligible differences and his arm is slinged over his twin’s shoulder. Stan carefully places the photo back into its home. 

Then he checks the wallet for hidden compartments and finds some extra cash as well as a fake ID. Good. It’s enough. All he has to do is leave until he gets his bearings and his memories again. 

Simple. 

He opens the door and finds himself in a hallway. Slipping into a closed bedroom, he looks for a few things to swipe, but then the door opens. 

“Hey-“ 

The other man pauses once he sees him. Maybe it’s the wild look in Stan’s eyes (he’s caught before he can even get going), but the man immediately puts his hands up in a placating gesture. 

“You okay?” The stranger asks slowly. 

Stan stares at the man. Gray hair, in his sixty, glasses, same height, about the same weight, and Stan realizes this might not be a stranger. This man is probably his twin. 

“I’m fine- Ford.” 

The name rolls off his tongue before he questions it. Right. He’s Stan and his twin brother is Ford. 

His brother coughs, “Stanley, is everything all right?” 

The voice and words are familiar. His chest feels warm looking at him, but his mind tells him not to trust someone who’s essentially a stranger. 

“No,” Stan says with a shake of head. Because things aren’t alright. Somehow, he can admit that to this person. 

“Alright,” Ford says. Then Ford goes to the closet to pull out a jacket, a scarf, some gloves, socks, a pair of boots, and throws them at him. 

“What’s all this for?” Stan asks. 

“You need some fresh air, right? Then let’s get some fresh air. I’ll follow your lead,” Ford says.

He starts pulling on a his own set of clothes. The ease in which Ford says the words loosens something in Stan’s chest. But he can’t trust this guy, not yet. However, he can take advantage of him.He can use him. He needs to gather more information and then reassess and this guy was his ticket to doing that. 

Stan gets dressed quickly, as does Ford. After he’s done, he’s handed a flashlight, which Stan stashes in his pocket. 

Somehow, Stan ends up taking lead. His muscle memory must still be active, because he knows the route out of the place. His body steps around creaky floorboards and he ducks into the shadows. He can’t help checking and rechecking his surroundings and tracking the exits. Then they make their way outside. They must be in the middle of nowhere because it’s incredibly dark. The only light comes from the cabin they left. 

He’s tempted to go towards civilization, the nearest town maybe, but he doesn’t know his reputation here. One misstep is all it takes for things to go to hell. 

Into the woods it is. 

Stan doesn’t wait for his shadow to follow. Instead he lets his gut lead. 

So he doesn’t notice that the guy following him has palmed a cell phone and has started messaging someone else…

-000-

“Hm…”

Ford considers the diagram on the blackboard. The position looks difficult but the mechanics are sound. However, he’s not sure if it’s possible for an extended period of time. 

“Going with the simplest of positions may be best,” he finally says. “Unless you’re capable of being the one on top?”

“Actually, I should be able to take position one,” his copy replies. “Although it looks and feels like I have a working anatomy, I don’t actually have a back to throw out. It’s quite doable.”

“Oh, well, then that solves everything. But just in case, let’s save it for last. I’m confident in my own flexibility, but I wonder about Stanley’s.”

“Agreed.”

Ford is about to draw another complicated sex position (something he’s only seen because he stumbled upon a very informative universe), when his cell phone buzzes. 

“Hold on, that’s Stan,” he says and goes to retrieve his phone. Perhaps his brother and his copy are ready for Ford and his copy? It’s a little early and Ford has a few other sex positions he wants to consider before the act, but he can’t say he isn’t excited. He’s been wanting to include the supernatural into their coitus routine for quite awhile, but Stan and circumstance haven’t been very forthcoming. 

Even now, it’s only coincidence that they have the Mystery Shack to themselves. A surprise visit to the Shack and with Soos, Melody, and Abuelita on a trip to see Melody’s family. 

When Ford found out they would be gone, he immediately tried to convince Stan to do something special. Most of his suggestions had been tossed out (it would take too much time, it wasn’t anatomically possible, ‘no, Ford, I’m not interested in the Hand-Witch that way’), but they had finally compromised. 

The scrape of chalk against the blackboard derails Ford from his thoughts. Instead of reading the message his eyes go back to his copy. He can’t help but eye himself from behind. It’s one thing to see himself in the mirror, it’s another to see an exact copy of himself. His copy is dressed lightly in a yellow turtleneck and sweatpants. Ford runs his eyes over the copies shoulders and his bare feet. 

It’s a good look. No wonder Stan sometimes can’t help but be a little more handsy when he’s dressed more casually. Perhaps he can have his copy model a few other looks for him so he can figure out what looks best and use that data on Stan-

His phone vibrates again. 

Right, of course, that’s why he stepped away from the chalkboard. 

“How odd,” he says aloud when he sees the message. “Stan sent us his location? And he’s in the middle of the woods…”

Ford checks the location again. His GPS does not lie when it says that the cell phone is not located in the Mystery Shack, but outside and getting further. 

He pulls up the most recent messages. 

“Ford.”

His copy lifts his head from the blackboard to look at him. 

“Stan’s having a memory relapse and ran away from the Mystery Shack.”

The copy’s face grows steadily more horrified with each word. He quickly hurries over to look at the phone. Confirming it for himself, the copy says, “Then we have to go find him.”

Ford nods. “Luckily, Stan’s copy is with him. The location that we’re receiving should be accurate.”

“Good.”

And with that they throw on some clothes and rush out the door. 

They don’t have any transportation to make it through the woods, so they have to go on foot. The sun is setting and the air is growing colder. Suddenly the forest that they’ve lived in seems vast and unwelcoming.

However, there’s no time for second thoughts or doubts, they need to reach Stan. This isn’t the first time his brother has had memory problems. A turn of a phrase or a sound can have his brother going back in time, or even forgetting who he is. They’ve been lucky enough in the past that each incident had occurred on the Stan O’ War. As long as Ford kept calm and didn’t cause a panic, Stan always regained his memories. The only other time in which they were not on the boat, Stan stole the boat (with Ford on it) to make a get-away.

And now he’s in the forest of Gravity Falls? 

Who knows what sort of trouble Stan could get into.

-000-

“Haha! Who’s next?” 

The manotaurs cheer Stan on, as his opponent slinks away in shame. No one steps up to the table, already catching on that betting against Stan was a bad idea. However, it would be easy enough to goad some of them into another game. All Stan has to do is poke at their masculinity-

The sound of an alarm goes off in the cave. 

All the manotaurs start to hoot at once. 

“Time to take on the Pain Hole!”

They gather towards the clearly marked hole and started to stick their appendages in. Clearly, they were competing to see who could stay the longest, even if it meant they were yelling in pain the whole time. 

“Yeesh,” Stan says. “And you guys do this for fun?”

“Of course!” One of the manotaurs says, beating a fist against his chest. “It’s a good way to show WHO’S THE MAN-OTAUR!!!”

He ended the last part in a roar which started another round of hooting. 

Stan sent a look towards Ford, who nodded back. They discreetly made their way out of the cave. When they were a good distance away, Stan pulled his winnings out of his pockets. Mostly it was odds and ends, interesting stones or bottle caps, but they were Stan’s so of course he was going to take them. Maybe he could display them at home-

He got a thought of someplace warm, with soft lighting. The smell of salt and something sweet in the air. When he chased the memory it faded away. Stan tries not to get frustrated, but it was getting difficult with each passing moment without his memories. It’s happened several times already; he’ll get a sensation of something remembered, but each time he tries to remember whatever it is he forgot, the memory slips away. 

At least he wasn’t going through this alone. Ford was following his lead, giving him the space he needed to process things. He would probably ask for help soon, after he had a little more time to think. 

Yup, that was exactly what he was going to do. He wasn’t worried about what he forgot at all. (Except that Stan had seen odd scars on his body. They suggested that he led a-not-so-good life. And the way he  _ ran away  _ from a warm and safe place to go into the middle of the woods wasn’t reassuring.) 

Anyways, there was plenty to do right now. The forest was weird, sure, but it was exactly the distraction he needed. 

“Come on, what else is around here?” Stan asks Ford. 

Ford makes a soft ‘hm’ noise, while tapping his chin. “I do believe that the gnomes are around here?”

“Gnomes? Like those garden things, with the hats?”

Ford nods. 

“Okay, yeah, this I gotta see.”

-000-

“Why are they heading towards the gnomes?” CopyFord asks. 

Ford doesn’t know and he’s not inclined to answer. Not that it’s an issue, he’s sure his copy asked more out of frustration than curiosity. They’ve been following a bizarre trail through the forest trying to find the Stans. The Stans have taken an odd meandering route, meeting up with the supernatural at every turn. They’ve just missed them at the manotaurs (almost walking in on the Pain Hole ritual) and now they’re going to see the gnomes?

“Well, maybe if we’re lucky they’ll be captured by the gnomes and we can go rescue them,” Ford says. At least that would keep them in one place. 

His copy snorts. “If only.”

But even before they approach the gnomes, they start to hear sirens and yelling. The Fords share a look. They break into a run. Perhaps they would have to stage a rescue. 

It’s pandemonium in the area, creatures running away, while smoke is starting to come through the trees. Luckily there doesn’t seem to be a fire, but there’s very little else that could cause such a panic. They’re about to burst out of the trees when they see very familiar flashing red and blue lights. Gnomes wearing police uniforms crawled all over what was surely a crime scene. 

“Only Stanley could attract the attention of so much law enforcement without his memories,” his copy muttered. “Anomalous law enforcement, even.”

“Agreed,” Ford says, dryly. 

They consult the GPS and it looks like the Stans are not in the middle of the mess, but are making a get-away. Sneaking away, Ford wonders what could they have done to cause such mayhem. 

-000-

“Wow, she is a beauty,” Stan says. “Why did they have her?”

“Mmhmm, she is. Gnomes get their hands in everything,” CopyStan explains. And while he’s seen the gnomes steal everything they can get their hands on, he is puzzled on how they managed to take such a beautiful motorcycle. It even looks like it’s been modified to go off-road. He’s a little worried that Stan will want to take her for a ride. If he wasn’t babysitting, then he would want to do the same. 

The cellphone in his pocket buzzes. 

While there are quite a few people with this number, there’s very few people who would be messaging him in the middle of the night. He doesn’t pull the phone out right away, instead waiting until Stan is admiring the bike, before looking around. He immediately spots the Fords in some bushes. 

“I’ll go do a perimeter check, Stanley,” he calls out. He holds back the urge to cough. Doing Ford’s voice for so long is horrible and he’ll be happy to go back to his own voice when this is over. 

Stan grunts an affirmative and he goes over to the Fords. 

“Who’s the copy?” He hisses. 

The one not-holding the cellphone points at himself. 

“Okay,” he says, then quickly tosses the other man’s phone to CopyFord. The actual Ford lets out a small ‘hey’ before he’s distracted by the Stan that’s stripping in front of him. 

“Quick, switch clothes with me,” Stan says. 

Ford catches on, and they switch jackets. As soon as he’s changed, Ford is shoved out of the bush with his phone again. Ford quickly hides it when he attracts Stan’s attention. 

“That was a quick perimeter check,” Stan says. 

Ford coughs, “Well, I suspect everyone is distracted by the ruckus you- we caused.” 

“Damn straight they are,” Stan readily agrees, not noticing the slip. He’s too distracted by the bike. Ford shouldn’t be jealous, but between losing Stan and the abrupt change in their plans, he thinks he’s justified. 

His brother straddles the bike and revs it. Figures he would steal the keys too. Ford eyes him and tries to be irritated, but instead he’s intrigued. His brother is handling the motorcycle like an expert and the image he’s presenting is quite pleasing. 

“Get on,” Stan yells back to him, shooting a look over his shoulder. He’s grinning, without a care in the world. It stirs something inside of Ford. Really he should refuse and have Stanley come back to the Mystery Shack so he can recover. 

“This is highly unorthodox,” Ford protests, but he’s moving towards the bike. 

“Is this motorcycle even designed to ride the woods?” Ford continues even though he’s getting behind Stan. 

“Our best course of action should be to head back to the Shack, I insist Stanley,” Ford declares, even though he’s sitting on the motorcycle his arms wrapped loosely around Stan’s middle. 

Stan looks back at him with a smile. 

“What?” Ford snaps. 

“This is the first time time you’ve complained about anything all night,” he says. 

“Complain-”

“Whined, if you prefer.”

“Whined! Why of all the-”

“I like it,” Stan says with such fondness in his voice that it stops Ford’s sputtering. Before Ford can gather himself and retort, Stan revs the motorcycle and takes off. Ford automatically wraps his arms tightly around Stan. They speed off into the forest. 

A moment later, the copies step out of the bushes. 

“Did they-”

“Yes. I believe they left us here.”

Stan and Ford share a look. They have the originals location so they could track them if they wanted to, but they were on foot while the other two were on a motorcycle. 

“Did you go want to taunt the Hand-Witch?” Stan suggests. 

“Won’t she try to curse us?” Ford asks. 

“Yeah, but she could also curse the originals too, not us.”

Ford chuckles and so does Stan. “Sounds fun. I’ve always wanted to explore the forest more with you.”

“Yeah, me too. It just wasn’t the same without you.”


	2. Originals1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short moment after the originals reunite with one another.

The motorcycle ride is a bit rough, but surprisingly they don’t fly off the bike. Ford suspects something paranormal, but it doesn’t matter at the moment. What does matter is that the scenery is flying past, yet Stan doesn’t crash into anything. (Ford definitely thinks there’s something abnormal about the bike, he knows how bad Stan’s eye sight is.) It’s frightening and exhilarating, and Ford finds himself clinging onto Stan. After a few close calls, they eventually reach the main road. 

Ford lets himself relax once they’ve left the deathtrap that is driving through the forest. 

But then Stan revs the motorcycle once more and they go even faster, taking turns and straights at dizzying speeds. The wind whips through his hair and at his body, but it feels good. It reminds Ford of the times when they sail the Stan O’ War through storms. Just them against the elements and coming out on top. It must remind Stan of something good too, because the man is clearly smiling. 

They drive on the outskirts of town and Ford watches Stan take it all in. There’s no spark of recognition, but Stan keeps a respectful distance. Driving around, Stan goes towards one of the higher outcrops where they’ll be able to look over the town. It isn’t long before they can see Gravity Falls below them. 

Stan turns off the motorcycle and Ford gingerly gets off. His legs are a bit numb from the ride. Stan gets off only a moment later. As one they automatically go towards the edge so they can get a better view.

Ford spots a few changes here and there. It’s simultaneously a nostalgic and bittersweet sight. There’s something emotional about seeing Gravity Falls change. He’ll never get used to. 

He looks towards Stan who has a puzzled look on his face. 

“It’s nice here,” Stan admits. “I don’t know why, but I like it here.”

“Well, it was your home for awhile,” Ford murmurs. 

“Yeah? Huh, that would explain it.”

He turns back to the sight, drinking it in. Ford continues to look at Stan. Perhaps soon he’ll see the sight of Stan remembering. Maybe he’ll chuckle, embarrassed that he forgot. Or he’ll look at Ford in horror over the fact that he’s forgotten again. Or he’ll start glancing at Ford, finally gaining his memories slowly. 

Eventually, Stan looks away from the sight of the town. He looks at the forest, the surrounding roads, the water tower, the McGucket Mansion, and then back towards the Mystery Shack. His body leans in that direction, but his expression remains puzzled, as if he can’t figure out why he’s being pulled that way. 

Ford remembers once again that Stan’s first and only memory lapse on land had him running back to the Stan O’ War. Perhaps it wasn’t just a coincidence, but Stan’s instinct telling him that the Shack was the place to go. That in that direction was home. 

Something settles in Ford. He knows now that wherever Stan may end up, he’ll always try to go home. 

Ford smiles. “I know the thing with the gnomes fell through-“ 

“You mean it was a great success!” Stan interrupts with a laugh. 

Ford fells the edges of his lips lift up at the enthusiasm. It’s like Stan never lost his memories. Some things would always stay the same. “A great success,” Ford agrees, “Or perhaps a great heist would be a better descriptor. Either way, there’s a lot more there’s a lot more that Gravity Falls has to offer other than gnomes. Shall we go explore?”

“Gravity Falls?” Stan repeats. 

Oh. Ford’s face falters. Perhaps he shouldn’t be treating Stan quite so familiarly. He doesn’t even know where he is. 

“Gravity Falls…” Stan repeats again, “I dunno why, but this place feels like it’s a good place. Feels like there’s more to this place than meets the eye.” 

Ford almost recoils when he hears the phrase. ‘More than meets the eye,’ that was definitely a good way to describe Gravity Falls. 

He looks at Stan grinning down at the world like it’s his for the taking. 

More than meets the eye. It’s a good way to describe Stan as well. 

Ford coughs to garner Stan’s attention. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” Ford says. “There’s adventure to be had, right?” 

Stan grins at him, “Yeah!” 


	3. Copies1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The copies reunite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Counts: ~900

“Why do I feel so guilty doing this?”

“Probably because you’re doing it to yourself, as opposed to actually being morally opposed to the action.”

Ford blinks at the reply. Stan gives him a wry grin and a shrug. “Ford, you’re only feeling guilty because the consequences are impacting the original- yourself, not some stranger, right?”

“Well… I wouldn’t word it that way-”

“Ford, think about it this way; we’re the copies. Hell, we might not even survive the night. We should have some fun while we can.”

“Hm. Is that what we’ll tell Stanley and Stanford when the Hand-Witch comes down from the mountain to curse them?”

“Why tell them? Wouldn’t it be more interesting if they had to find out for themselves?” 

“Stan, she’s still cursing us. She might follow us down the mountain,” Ford says dryly. 

Stan peeks out of their hiding place. There are literal sparks coming out of the Hand-Witch’s hands and the words coming out of her mouth are both obscene and spell-like. Very worrying. Stan tucks himself back against the rock face and turns to Ford. 

“Nah, we’ll be fine. Her place is pretty comfortable, she won’t leave unless she has too. If we keep our heads down we’ll be fine,” Stan says with a wave of his hand. 

“You said that Mabel gave her cave a makeover?” 

“Yeah. ‘Stan’ refused to apologize for stealing from her, so Mabel managed to appease her with a cave makeover and some bad pick-up lines.”

“Stanley, you can’t refer to yourself in third person in order to shift blame.”

“Well, CLEARLY it was the fault of the original. Not me.”

Before Ford could argue against the point, thunder cracked down from the sky. The subsequent lightning destroyed a tree at the base of the mountain. Ford and Stan had a great view of the destruction. The Hand-Witch cackled and cursed, making very pointed remarks about the Stans and where they could shove it. 

The copies discreetly left the area. The originals could deal with it later. 

They managed to get off the mountain without alerting the Hand-Witch. After they were out of sight, they looked at each other and laughed. They needed to hold onto each other they were laughing so hard. 

Another boom of thunder shut them up. Continuing to snicker, the twins walk away from the mountain. Eventually, their laughter peters out and they walk amicably through the forest together. 

Their hands occasionally brush and they glance at each other every so often. They’re so wrapped up in one other that they almost walk into a tree. Luckily, they dodge in time. They each take a side and go around. Once the tree is out of way, they come back together as is pulled together by an invisible force. Walking together, their hands join together. There’s less giggling and less laughing, and more warm looks and gentle caresses. 

Perhaps it’s more fate than coincidence when they find themselves back at the Mystery Shack. 

“Hey, look,” Stan says with a nudge and a grin. “A place with a bed.”

Ford chuckles and looks away. He gathers himself and shoots Stan a look full of heat. “That better be a promise.”

Stan inhales and needs a moment to reply. When he’s finally prepared an appropriate rebuttal (heh), his phone goes off, vibrating loud enough to ruin the moment. The look that Ford’s giving him is reason enough to ignore the phone, but no, Stan recognizes what the alarm is for. Better check on things.   

Stan has to extricate himself from Ford to use the phone. “Lemme see- oh.”

“What is it?” Ford says, looking curiously at the screen. 

“I set some alarms to remind me to check the position of the other phone,” Stan replies. “It looks like the originals are driving around Gravity Falls.”

“Hm, their positioning is interesting…” But before Ford can ascertain their exact location, Stan pulls the phone away. 

“Yeah, interested in cockblocking us,” Stan says with a snort. 

“Stan!” 

“It’s true,” Stan says. 

Damn conscience. Stan’s now worried about the other two. The conversation he just had with Ford is turning itself on himself and affecting his opinion. If it was a bunch of strangers, he wouldn’t care. But this is him and his brother, a Stan and a Ford. He wants to be there for them.

Ford places a gentle hand on his back. 

“Who’s the one caring now?” Ford teases. 

“Yeah, yeah, no sex for us until that Stan gets his memories back,” Stan grumbles. 

Being cockblocked by himself is terrible. He wants to return the favor, but a foursome really is too good to pass. 

Well if he couldn’t take his revenge that way…

Stan looks around and spots his vehicle for revenge. 

Ford follows his line of sight and snorts. “Really?”

“Hey, it’s my car too,” Stan says, jogging over to the Stanley Mobile. “Come on.”

“Alright,” Ford says with a grin. 

As soon as Ford gets in, Stan guns the engine and shoots off. He laughs maniacally and Ford yells in delight. They drive towards the town, ready to paint it red. 

It makes sense that they wouldn’t look at the cell phone again, why would they?

At that moment if they had cared enough to look at the GPS, they would notice that the original Ford and Stan were heading to a very specific place that Ford would recognize. While there was nothing there on an official map, it was a place very familiar to Ford and home to one of the most interesting anomalies in Gravity Falls. 


	4. Originals2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan doesn’t remember, but they still go on an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date Published: 3/2/19  
> Word Count: ~1.6k

They’re driving around Gravity Falls, taking in the sights. Stan seems to be enjoying just driving, while Ford enjoys the physical intimacy of having to hold onto Stan while they drive. He’s allowed himself to curl in close, telling himself that it was only logical to keep a firm grip. 

He doesn’t notice when Stan takes his eyes off the road to stare at one of Gravity Falls most interesting geographical features. 

However, he does notice when Stan starts to slow down. Eventually they come to a stop and Ford follows Stan’s line of sight to see him staring out at the town. The sight is familiar yet fills Ford with an odd sense of dread. When was the last time he’s seen this particular view? 

“Oh hey, what’s that?” Stan points out. He kicks the stand out and he’s off the bike in moments, leaving Ford to fend for himself. 

When Ford gets off he’s surprised by the sight of Stan twisting open the cover to the entrance of the alien spaceship. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, he knows this area better than anyone. He should have realized long ago that they were heading in this direction, should have headed Stan off. Right now, Ford should be telling Stan to stop and that they should leave this area right now. 

Ford doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything. His mind is flashing back to his last trip here with Dipper. That day had been a great adventure and bonding experience with his great nephew. But after talking about it to a few people (Fiddleford, Stan, Mabel) and having Dipper talk about the day with the others, Ford came to the realization that maybe it wasn’t such a grand adventure. He could have been captured that day, disappeared again after being rescued from the portal. The possible consequences had been too great, and in the end, they hadn’t been able to stop Bill. 

Confronting his choices from that day, Ford isn’t ready for that.

But before Ford can stop Stan from going inside, his brother has already unscrewed the top and is sliding his way down. 

How on earth was an amnesiac causing Ford so much trouble? 

Ford quickly followed after him. 

When he arrived at the bottom, Stan had already pulled out his flashlight to look at the place in wonder. 

“Wow…” 

Indeed, the place was as grand as Ford remembered.

“This place is incredible, have I been here before?” Stan says, awe still in his voice. 

“No, this is your first time here,” Ford replies softly, watching Stan take everything in. 

Stan stops his observations to look back at Ford. “Really? This seems like a place I would have an adventure?”

Ford has to look away from Stan’s expectant expression. He doesn’t know how to explain everything to him.  “We’ve been having too many adventures on the Stan O’ War,” Ford says in way of explanation. 

“Stan O’ War?” Stan asks. 

Ford jolts, about to ask how Stan could ask ‘what is the Stan O’ War,’ before he is once again reminded that Stan doesn’t remember. Looking at him, Ford can’t sense any sort of recognition, simply a pure curiosity. 

“Well...” Ford figures the truth wouldn’t hurt, “We go sailing on a ship called the Stan O’ War. We have adventures around the globe. Actually, this is the first time we’ve been back to Gravity Falls since we’ve set sail.” 

“Huh.” Stan says nothing else but that one syllable before going back to looking at the ruins. 

There’s a spark of irritation Ford can’t help but feel at being ignored. The appropriate response should have been to keep asking questions. Shouldn’t an amnesiac have more questions? And it should have been obvious as his twin, Ford knew the most about Stan. Any questions Stan had, Ford could answer. 

Ford wants to ask if Stan has any questions for him, but what comes out is; “Don’t you want to remember?” 

The words come out rather loudly in Ford’s ear and ring with an air of accusation. Stan immediately looks at him and scowls. It’s a familiar expression to Ford, and his heart lifts at the sight. Now Stan will accuse Ford of putting words in his mouth. Then Ford would shoot back that he wasn’t and he would ask Stan to explain himself. 

But Stan doesn’t follow their usual pattern. Instead his gaze shifts to suspicious and wary, before smoothing out into a more placid expression. Stan looks nonchalant now, casual even. Ford realizes that Stan is hiding his feelings from him. 

This wasn’t good. This sort of behavior was typical to the prelude of a daring escape. Pretend to be friendly, before robbing them them blind. That was typical Stan behavior. Did Ford push too much? Was Stan going to bolt? 

Ford watches Stan carefully, ready to dash after him if necessary. At least without a flashlight, Ford has an excuse to stick close. 

However, Stan continues the casual act, going back to looking around the cave. 

The spacecraft! 

That’s right, Ford needs to keep an eye out for any nasty surprises. It’s unlikely that there would be anything similar to his previous encounter, but Ford can’t take that risk. Especially when it would be difficult to protect Stan in this amnesiac state, unknowing and untrusting. He was on high alert for outside interference and for any unusual movement from Stan. 

His hyper-vigilance is why he is caught completely off guard for Stan’s next question: “What’s wrong with you?”

“What?” Ford snaps his head in Stan’s direction. He’s dropped the casual act and is scowling in full force. His shoulders are tense and Ford wonders if Stan is about to throw a punch. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Stan repeats. 

Ford almost recoils from the question. “What’s- what’s  _ wrong  _ with  _ me _ ?”

“Yeah, I’m talking about you,  _ pal _ !” Stan says, getting in his face. The sound echoes throughout the cavern. 

Ford has the passing thought that they should keep it down, sound might trigger something- but then Stan pokes him hard in the chest. 

“What is wrong with you!” Stan yells. “When I first lost my memories,” Stan gestures to his head (Ford falters, this is the first time they’ve acknowledged out loud that Stan’s lost his memories), “You were understanding, you gave me space, but now you’re being, being pushy! And impatient! And- and you’re being a Know-It-All!”

Ford took a step back at the words. The words are like a physical blow, and his stumbling brought him out of the circle of light provided by Stan’s flashlight. 

He couldn’t answer and he couldn’t step back into the light. Ford didn’t know how to proceed, so he stays silent, gaping at his brother. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like you more now. You know, all grumpy and whiny, but- I don’t know, shouldn’t you be more worried?” Stan says, voice faltering at the end. Stan looks away from Ford. “How can you be so calm?”

Oh. 

Stan is worried. 

Stan’s angry (and he has good reason to be), and he’s jumping to conclusions and taking out his anger on Ford. 

But ultimately, Stan is afraid. 

Part of the fault lies on Ford’s hands. He hasn’t reassured Stan at all. He took for granted that Stan’s copy had taken care of Stan, and that Stan was coping with his situation. But Ford has to remember that this isn’t his Stan. (His Stan who was strong, in both mind and body. Who was confident, but not too confident. Who had the experience, abilities, and wits to match up to Ford. Who was Ford’s other half.) Without his memories, this wasn’t his Stan. At least, not yet. 

Ford knows what he has to do. 

He steps forward so that he’s back in the light again. The movement draws Stan’s attention and he looks at Ford. His gaze is unwavering and steady, and a bit sad (but perhaps that was Ford projecting). 

“I’m sorry,” Ford says, pouring all his sincerity and heart into those words. 

“Fuck you,” Stan says, not missing a beat. 

Ford opens his mouth, but couldn’t reply. His mouth flapped uselessly and no sound passed from his lips. 

“Listen, I may not know who I am, but I trust my instincts. And my instincts are telling me you’re not acting normal. The pushiness, the whining, being a Know-It-All, if that’s normal, _ then that’s fine _ . But you gotta stay consistent with me, none of this fake feelings and fake apologies bullshit.” 

“Fake apologies!” Ford sputters. 

“Yes! Fake apologies! You’re saying sorry, just for the sake of trying to fix whatever’s making you run hot and cold!” 

“You were the one who was worried about regaining his memories, seconds ago!”

“Yeah, maybe. But I’ve changed my mind now!” Stan yells, throwing his arms up. He takes another breath, “If you treat me like normal, and if you  _ be normal _ , then I’ll instinctively know what’s normal,” Stan says, starting to lose steam. He’s no longer yelling and he’s looking more tired than angry. 

Stan sighs and looks Ford in the eyes. 

“Can you do that for me, Ford?” He asks. 

Ford takes a shaky breath. To think that that’s all he needed to do, was to be himself. (Although Ford didn’t agree with the impression that Stan had of himself). He thought he was, but looking back, perhaps Ford was letting the situation get the best of him. He hasn’t been his usual logical and calm self. And he has been second-guessing himself. He should have had more faith in himself and his knowledge in Stan. 

“I can do that, Stan,” Ford says. 

Stan gives him a grin. “Good, now let’s have an adventure!”


	5. Copies2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 Summary: The copies have their own adventure in town. 
> 
> Additional Tags: They talk a little bit about their time apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: ~5.7k
> 
> Date Published: 4/7/19

“Thanks, Susan. I know you don’t usually do orders to go, but I had to share the pie with the rest of the shack.” 

“Oh Stan, you charmer,” Lazy Susan says with a wave of her hand. She lifts up her eyelid, “Wink.” 

Stan hands her the price of the pie and some, then swaggers away. “I’ll see you again, next time I’m in town.” 

“Bye, Stan!” She says from the door of her diner. Some of the other diners give him a wave and Stan leaves them with a salute and a wink. 

He pops back into the StanMobile where Ford is waiting for him. 

“So?” 

“No one suspected a thing, everyone thought I was Stan. And no one's seen Stan or Ford since the summer,” Stan says, handing him the pie. 

“Good, good. Then why on earth did we buy this pie if we can’t eat it?” Ford asks. He eyes it, but knows it’s a risk he shouldn’t take. He’s not hungry (the feeling of hunger is already fading from his mind now that his body deems it unnecessary), but the memory of food and the habit of eating makes him want to take a bite. 

Stan grabs the pie and places it in the back, as if he knew what Ford was thinking. 

“We’re trying to to keep a low profile. No better place to gather information than the diner,” Stan explains. “The pie is just a cover.” 

Ford scoffs. A low profile. Ford’s mind populated with examples where a low profile is the last thing that Stan keeps when they were sailing on the Stan O’ War. With their home being a boat, Stan kept a very ‘free’ mindset. One where he did whatever the hell he wanted and then left (ran). Ford was often dragged into his brothers schemes and they often left town running more often than not. 

“Hey, I pretended to be you for thirty years didn’t I? And that was with a criminal record in  **both** identities,” Stan says with a grin. 

“Thanks for that.” Ford’s makes sure his words are as dry and sarcastic as possible. 

“Heh, you’re welcome,” Stan says while starting the car. 

They take a slow route through the town, noting the changes. A lot of it has stayed the same, but Ford points out the differences. There are a lot, big and small, especially when his memories are from decades ago. Stan tells stories about the slow metamorphosis about some of the buildings. 

“Hey, that’s new,” Stan points out. The building certainly looks new, and with a completely different design than the surrounding area. It’s an industrial warehouse with a neon sign. 

“The 24 Hour Survival Boutique,” Ford reads aloud. 

“Ohhh, the weird apocalypse we had that summer must have made everyone paranoid,” Stan says. 

Ford lets out a chuckle. “I don’t know how a Survival  _ Boutique _ would do anyone any good in another Weirdmaggedon.” 

“I’m sure there’s plenty in there that could have helped. Would have been nice to have another safe place other than the Shack,” Stan says, shooting Ford a look. 

The words feel like a jab and Ford’s lips twist into a frown. It was a sore point for him that for most of the apocalypse, Ford had been captured by Bill. If he had been there, he would have helped. He was confident in the survival abilities he had built up over the years. 

“I was a fugitive in hundreds of universes and dimensions, Stan. I think I know a thing or two about survival and living in my own,” Ford explains. 

Stan snorts. “You don’t have to be a snob about it.” 

“Snob!” Ford spits out, flabbergasted. It was a fact! He was simply commenting on his experience. 

“That’s right, a snob. I survived on my own for more than forty years, but I’m not bragging about conquering the multiverse-“ 

“Conquering- that’s not what I said!” 

“Well, that’s what you mean!” 

“Just because you could have used this idiotic Boutique-“ 

“It’s not idiotic! I’ll prove it!” 

“Fine then prove it!” Ford yells, throwing his hands up. 

“I will!” Stan says, getting out of the car. They’ve pulled into the parking of the Boutique. As he gets out, Ford catches him mumbling, “And I’ll do it better.” 

“What was that?” Ford asks with a growl, getting out of the car after Stan. 

“That’s right,” Stan says, spinning around to face Ford, “I bet I could survive in the multiverse with supplies from the 24 Hour Survival Boutique.” 

“Well,  _ I too  _ could survive in the multiverse with supplies from there,” Ford spits back. 

“Then put your money where your mouth is!” 

And with that the two of them run into the store, jostling each other as they go. There’s some passive aggressive wrestling for the best cart, and Stan throws a messy salute to the person manning the counter, Toby Determined (or was it still BodaciousT?). He waves back at them and allows them to continue their antics. Through some childish sniping they somehow set some ground rules: they would design a pack they could carry on foot through the multiverse, and they would do it in less than half an hour. 

Stan immediately runs through the aisles. Better to explore all of his options and then carefully select what he would need based on the inventory. 

Ford immediately selects a pack, picking something similar to what he used in his time in the portal. He replicated the contents of his pack too, adding a few more gadgets that would have been useful in the past. As he’s doing this, he continually checks the weight. It needs to be light enough to carry on foot. He finishes the pack fairly quickly. But then he grabs a few outfits that would be versatile in all weather conditions. Because he’s done with the rest of his pack, Ford spends the rest of his time carefully picking through the clothes (after all, function and image were important as a multiverse known fugitive). 

Meanwhile, Stan was shoving as much as he could into his cart. He was of the opinion that he should get everything available to have in front of him, then pick out what he wanted. In a matter of moments his cart is filled to the brim. Once he’s picked the aisles clean, he settles in an open area (near his brother) and starts spreading everything out. He goes through everything, comparing function, size, weight, and price. He loads and unloads the bags and checks to see how certain items would fit in pockets or hidden compartments. 

At the end of their time, Stan and Ford have their bags ready to go. As one, they march over to the apocalypse approved furniture, and claim a table for themselves. They take a moment to appraise each other’s packs. 

“I’ll just put these things away,” Toby says, undeterred by the oddly intense mood. He starts slowly carting away the items that didn’t make it into their packs. “Don’t mind me.” 

They ignore him. 

However, it spurs Ford into action and he gestures to his pack with a flourish. “I chose a backpack and a utility belt to maximize comfort and weight distribution. That way all of the stress isn’t on the shoulders and back. And this belt can be attached to a harness for speedy getaways.” 

Stan lifts the items to inspect them. Ford’s logic is sound and the weight is reasonable. It’s not a bad choice, however.. he squints at the belt. “This looks exactly like the belt you were wearing when you came out of the portal,” Stan accuses. Of what, Ford doesn’t want to think about 

“It’s functional,” Ford defends. 

Stan rolls his eyes. What a nerd. “Hmph, sure. What else you got?” 

Ford pulls out item after item, with an explanation for each. Sometimes Stan will nod along with the explanation or throw a comment out there, but Ford finds himself having to defend many of his choices. 

“The sturdiness means that it will be heavier, there’s no helping that, Stan.” 

“It may be expensive, but I can tell from the design that this model is best.” 

“Yes, Stan. I’ve found it best to have a portable waste receptacle, you never know when you might need it.” 

Instead of finding the questions annoying, Ford finds it rather stimulating. Being able to discuss his choices must loosen his tongue, because Ford starts adding in anecdotes about his time in the portal. The stories start as a why an item is essential to traveling in the portabl, but Ford finds himself talking more and more. 

“Why the water testing kit? I do admit it’s rather expensive and I could build my own that is better, but sometimes when you’ve escaped the Gorlan Confederacy and are on the run it’s easier to use store-bought. I’ve also been to entire dimensions that don’t have ‘water.’ I had to do tests with what I had. Something like this kit would have come in handy,” Ford says, giving the kit a fond pat. 

“What did you end up drinking?” 

“Hm?” Ford breaks out of his reverie at the sound of Stan’s voice. 

“What did you end up drinking in the dimensions without water?” Stan asks. His expression is- neutral. Not judging nor pitying, so Ford is comfortable with answering. 

“I supplemented my water intake by eating things that contained a lot of liquid. But when that wasn’t enough I had to recycle my waste,” Ford admits.

Stan nods as if it made perfect sense. 

“What about you?” Ford asks suddenly curious. 

“What about me?” 

“I’m theorizing that you didn’t have water trouble on the road?” Ford says casually. He tries to keep the question light, he’s not trying to cause an argument, he’s just curious. Even on earth potable water wasn’t always accessible. 

Stan tries not to get emotional when he remembers choking down dirty water and clutching his stomach trying to keep it inside him. His first reaction is to clutch his stomach at the memory, but he schools his features and his reactions. His next reaction is to brush it off and lie because there’s no use torturing each other with the information. But- Ford never really talks about his time in the portal. Sure he likes to talk about his accomplishments and his discoveries, but not so much about his experiences. He’ll try to keep it casual, like Ford is. 

He answer is a bit gruff, but he too keeps his tone light, “Water’s water isn’t? Doesn’t matter if it was,” filthy, tepid, out of a toilet, from a puddle, taken from a stream, not fit for human consumption, “-anyway, it didn’t matter where I found it, I had to drink it.” 

Ford looks at Stan, trying not to let his thoughts show. He can imagine what kind of water Stan’s been forced to drink. He can’t help thinking and imagining the possibilities when Stan interrupts his thoughts: 

“Don’t make that face. Besides it’s way behind us and I packed a water filter,” Stan says. He has several portable straw type filters, some that can fit in a pocket, and some dotted around his pack. There’s even a larger one tucked into the pack. It tells Ford exactly how helpful they would have been during Stan’s exile. 

“That’s a good idea, Stan, I should include one in my pack,” Ford says. 

Stan shrugs. 

Instead of continuing that line of conversation, Ford pats the kit and moves it aside for another item. 

“So I have rock climbing equipment-“ 

“Makes sense.” 

“-Harnesses, pulleys, ropes-“ 

“I have stuff like that too.” 

“-First Aid kit-“

“Same.” 

Ford’s about to pull out the next item, but Stan realizes the behemoth that is the first aid kit. It’s a metal box that looks like it takes up half of Ford’s pack on it’s own and most of the weight too. 

“Woah, woah, what’s in there?” Stan says, before Ford can put the thing away. 

“Oh, this?” Ford looks surprised that Stan would question the first aid kit. “Well it pays to be prepared.” He opens the kit, revealing its contents.

“Oh, geez, Ford.” 

Along with what you would normally expect in a first aid kit: bandages, medicine, splints, there is obviously some heavy duty medical equipment. It’s like a mini surgery room in a box. There are bags of fluids, a blood pump, surgery tools, a portable spotlight, the list goes on. Then Stan spots the drugs. 

“Ford!” Stan hisses. 

His first instinct is to hide them, because they were the type of supplies people will shank others for (Stan knows from personal experience) and he instinctively checks their surrounds. 

But he’s not on the run anymore. They’re inside, in Gravity Falls, and the only person besides them is Toby. Toby who’s restocking the medical supplies (this place really did stock everything). He doesn't have to worry about holding onto a large amount of pain medication and antibiotics. He tries to relax, but the sight of them makes him itch. 

“It’s always good to be prepared,” Ford says slowly. 

“Of course, it’s only- that sorta supplies could get you in trouble with the wrong people,” Stan tries to explain. 

“I see,” Ford nods in understanding. 

“But I get it, Ford,” Stan says quickly. Because he does, he knows what it’s like to be on the run when you’re injured, knows that things can get deadly, dangerous fast. “I mean, back in they day I could go to the hospital then run away in the middle of the night. But I can’t do that anymore.” 

Ford chuckles. He understands that Stan understands. “Back in the day? Why can’t you do it now?” 

“Too much digital security and tracking nowadays. I mean, I could probably get away with things since we’re twins-“ 

“Stan,” Ford says sternly. 

“It’s not like I  _ would _ . But a lot of these new DNA tests can still be fooled by things like bone marrow donors and people being twins. Hey, you can use this to your advantage too.” 

Ford sighs, “Well, we’re copies so I believe DNA tests are a non-issue for us.” 

“Heh, that’s right,” Stan agrees. 

They both chuckle, then pause. 

“If we don’t actually have bodies because we’re copies…” Stan starts. 

“Then I do believe it solves most of our problems regarding supplies,” Ford finishes. 

They both can’t believe they’ve forgotten. However, tension had been running high and although they were no longer bodily human, they still had all of their past memories (and nightmares). 

“I suppose this isn’t as important as some of the other items,” Ford’s says, hands gently tapping against the first aid kit. 

Seeing his brother’s sad face, Stan stops Ford from putting it aside. “Let’s go through everything first before tossing it out the window.”

Ford nods, his lips quirking into a smile. 

They go over the rest of the items, which cheers Ford up. Ford gets lighter, even when Stan starts teasing him about his fashion sense when he spots the clothing that looks suspiciously like the outfit he wore out of the portal.

Then Stan debuts his pack. The backpack is rather small and can turn into a book bag that’s slung over the shoulder. Ford eyes it skeptically. 

“It expands,” Stan clarifies. “A lot of my items can be hidden on my person, but the bag’s versatile so it can fit different situations. Here a duffel is pretty normal, but I took a guess for what’s ‘normal’ in the multiverse.”

“No, a backpack can be normal in some realms,” Ford agrees. “I admit that my outfit is fit for a, well, an outlaw. What you picked is certainly more innocuous.” 

Stan chuckles. “When you’re on the run you should do your best not to stand out, Ford. I learned that early on.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I got in a lot trouble with a lot of authorities, both clean and dirty. Not to mention law enforcement and unsatisfied customers. But the worst?” 

“Who’s the worst?” Ford asks with a smile, clearly amused. 

“Lawyers,” Stan says, serious as a grave. Ford still chuckles. “I’m dead serious! Too much power and clout if you ask me. My only defense was to look like half the city and not stand out.” 

“Were these lawyers pursuing you because of the products you sold?” Ford asks, even though he has a good idea on what the answer is. 

“I don’t have to answer that,” Stan says with a sniff. 

Ford laughs again. “Okay, tell me more about the pack that has kept you alive from rabid lawyers,” 

Stan gives him the stink eye, but continues. Like with Ford’s pack, they go over all of the items debating their merits. 

When Stan pulls out a set of rations, Ford chuckles again. “Another item to reevaluate.”

“No, no. Besides medicine, food is the best trading item. And you’re less likely to be killed for it,” Stan replies. 

Ford felt a phantom ache in his nonexistent stomach. Looking at the food did give him piece of mind, just like looking at the first aid kit did. “Perhaps something to keep then.”

They go over each item, until one of them makes Ford rolls his eyes. 

“Playing cards?” He asks. “Where did you even find these?” 

“There’s a whole section dedicated to entertainment,” Stan points at one of the aisles. 

Ford’s eyebrows go up at the sight. The section dedicated to hospital supplies made sense, a survival store that doubled as a shelter would need one. But why would a survival store have an aisle that was dedicated to board games, books, and- were those magic tricks?

“Hey, if you’re stuck inside because Bill’s minions are rampaging outside, it’s nice to have something to do besides cowering in fear.” Toby says, passing by them with a armful of batteries. 

“Point taken,” Ford replies. 

“Hey, a deck of cards is the perfect supply getter. You wouldn’t believe how many people I grifted. They're universal too, anyplace in the world I could use a deck of cards to play people,” Stan explains. 

“Okay, no need to get worked up,” Ford replies, cutting Stan off before he can build up momentum. “I would be a hypocrite if I criticized you on gaining assets from gambling.” 

“Oh ho? Do tell, Ford.” 

“There are gambling dimensions where information can only be traded through games. It was a good place to stay for awhile,” Ford says. The memory of these places is pleasant. It reminded him the most of earth, but in a nostalgic way. He was quite successful there. 

“Gambling dimension, oh you lucky son of a gun,” Stan says with a chuckle. His eyes are alight with ideas. 

“We share the same parents, Stan,” Ford say dryly. However the thought of Stan joining him in these dimensions makes him smile. The dimension was fun, but they could have been more fun if Stan had been by his side. 

“Yeah,” Stan says a faraway look on his face. 

“What else do you have in our pack?” Ford says, trying to draw Stan away from his memories. 

The question causes Stan to blink and he goes back to being in the present with Ford. After a lengthy discussion of each provision, they almost finish with Stan’s pack. When they reach the last item, Ford finds himself looking curiously at Stan’s pack. It felt as if there was something missing from Stan’s pack. 

“No weapons?” Ford asks once he realizes what’s wrong.

“There’s the grapple gun,” Stan says, holding it up. It’s the exact same model as Mabel’s. “Don’t underestimate this thing, it’s saved a lot of our keisters over the summer.” 

“No, the grapple gun is good, but what about like a regular gun? Or a crossbow?” There were plenty in the store. (Maybe a little too many in the store and too easy to acquire. They really should be placed in a case or on a higher shelf). 

“When you’re trying to blend in,you don’t carry around a gun,” Stan explains, expression solemn. It wasn’t the only reason why, but it was a very good one. Carrying something dangerous only meant getting dragged into more danger. “Besides, I’m not trigger happy like you are. You can be our weapons expert.” 

Ford was oddly flattered on carrying such a large responsibility. It was one he would take seriously, especially if his brother wasn’t going to carry a weapon. “I can do that.” 

They stare at the finished packs in silence, aware that they should put the items back. 

“You know,” Stan starts, “We created these in mind thinking that we had bodies. Maybe we should redo them with our new bodies in mind.” 

Ford perks up. “That’s a sound idea. Why, our packs would be radically different with our new bodies. It’s only logical that we should adapt them to our new situation.” 

This time they go up and down the aisles together. They take their time discussing the pros and cons of putting certain supplies away and each new item that catches their attention. They debate whether or not a waterproofing agent could help them not dissolve. (Probably nothing commercial would help them, Ford or Fiddleford would have to make it). They look at clothes and wonder if it was worth it to wear something waterproof but look lame (it was not worth it). They balance their packs out, as if they were going to travel the multiverse together. They move items around so things are even and they have complimentary supplies and provisions.

Then they finish. 

Their packs are done and decided. They’ve exhausted every possibility in the store and have considered outside ones. They’ve gone over their past experiences and possible future encounters. They’re done. 

Ford stares at his pack, but it’s swiped out of his hand. 

“Ring these up for us,” Stan says to Toby. 

“Hooray, my first sale,” Toby says, enthusiastically scanning everything. 

“And keep this a secret between the two of us, will ya? We don’t want the kids to know what we got planned for them,” Stan says, adding a bill into the tip jar. 

“You got it, Stan,” Toby says with a salute. 

“Stanley…” 

Why buy things that were going to go to waste? 

Stan waves him off. “I got this.” 

Ford stays silent for the duration that it takes to pay for everything. Once they get outside, Ford finally says what’s on his mind. 

“What was that for? We don’t need any of this. The chances of us being able to use any of this-“ 

Stan ignores him and slings their packs into the back of the StanMobile. Once he slams the trunk closed, he looks at Ford. 

“Chances shmances. We only live once, Ford.” 

Ford gives him a skeptical look. “Really, Stan? A pep talk, from you?” 

“Yeah, yeah, it doesn’t suit me, I get it,” Stan chuckles. However his gaze turns serious and he looks at Ford, “But really. Ignoring the whole copy thing, what do you want to do? And I don’t mean something normal, I mean if we could do anything in Gravity Falls without consequence, what do you wanna do?” 

Stan looks at him so seriously that Ford can’t help but think the question through. He considers what they could do in the city and in the forest, weighs what would be most fun, and what’s least likely to get them killed, and what was most possible. He scans the town and the horizon for some ideas. His eyes land on the McGucket Mansion. 

He would love to go see Fiddleford. They had made some amends (Ford still had a lot of making up to do, he wasn’t totally forgiven) before they had left. But it felt a bit presumptuous inviting themselves over in the middle of the night...

Apparently Ford was staring too long, because Stan easily followed his line of sight and deduced what he was thinking. 

“You want to go to McGucket’s? Sure, get in the car,” Stan says, ready to go.

“Wait.” Ford catches Stan’s arms. “It’s the middle of the night and-“

And Ford wasn’t sure they would be welcome. 

Stan frowns, but then perks up. He removes the arms holding him and uses it to tug Ford back into the store. 

“I have an idea,” Stan says in way of explanation. 

Ford lets himself get pulled along. He’s curious to see what Stan’s plan is. 

When his twin walks through the door, he tells Toby to bring out all of the available toilet paper. Toby cheers, it’s his second sale ever. 

-000- 

“Take this!” 

Stan lobs the toilet paper as far as he can. The arc and speed it travels is actually quite impressive, but the mansion is massive and the roll only ends up bouncing on the (first?) roof. Ford looks up and up and sees a whole lot of real estate to TP. 

“This may be an exercise in futility,” Ford says, as Stan throws another roll. This one covers more, sailing across a corner to come back to the ground. 

“Come on, Ford. Don’t be such a downer, why don’t you try it?” Stan says tossing him a roll. 

Ford catches it and eyes the rest of the toilet paper they’ve brought with them. The pile had seemed impressive at the time (even though they were not allowed to buy the whole stock of TP from the Survival Boutique), but in the face of such a large mansion, it wasn’t sufficient. Maybe they could get the lawn, or the gate at most.

“Or maybe you’re scared that you can’t make the throw-”

Ford gets into position, plants his feet, pulls his arm back, then launches the toilet roll. It soars through the air, crossing over at least one roof, possibly reaching another roof. But after reaching the first roof, the roll disappears and doesn’t come back. 

Stan lets out a low whistle. Ford smirks, looks like Stan was impressed. He turns to face him about to tease him for it when he sees that Stan hadn’t been looking at his toss, but at him. Ford swallows his words. 

“Why did it look like you were launching a grenade instead of a roll of toilet paper?” Stan asks, totally ruining the moment. 

Ford wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t want to admit that he was throwing the roll like he was launching a grenade. He’s had past experience. 

“How did you know that it looked like I was throwing a grenade?” Ford asks.

“Maybe for the same reason that you look like you’re launching a grenade,” Stan says with a shrug and an easy smile. He comes over to jostle his shoulder with Ford’s. 

Ford relaxes. Stan understood. He wasn’t making light of Ford’s experiences. 

“What are you two doing?” 

Ford and Stan immediately split apart. 

Tate is standing in front of them in his pajamas. He slowly takes in the sight of the toilet paper pile, and the few rolls they managed to toss over the side of the house. Then his gaze turns back to the men. His expression is unreadable underneath his bangs. 

Ford doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t even know if Tate remembers him. Perhaps the man thought Stan was him? 

Stan gives Tate a weak wave and a chuckle. “Hey, Tate. We were in town and we thought we’d…” Stan wiggles his fingers as if that could explain their presence. 

Tate sighs. “If you wanted to come in, then you could have knocked.” 

Stan goes over the mansion and knocks on on of the pillars. “Knock, knock? We brought uh, toilet paper and cookies,” and he whips out a few packet of travel sized snacks. 

Tate sighs again, and Ford realizes the man is rolling his eyes. “Where did those come from Stan?” He asks. 

“From the Survival Boutique. Toby made his first sale. We have shortbread cookies,” Stan says, waving the bags in the air. The action down not make them very tantalizing. 

“Okay, come in. I’ll make some coffee,” Tate says, waving them in. 

Ford and Stan follow obediently.

“See?” Stan whispers. “Rations are a perfect bartering item.” 

Ford shushes him. He’s pretty sure it isn’t the cookies that’s letting them in. This isn’t the place to be testing Tate’s goodwill. 

They head inside, greeted by a servant. Several other servants go outside and they retrieve the toilet paper to bring it inside. 

After a few turns they find themselves in a small kitchen. Fiddleford is sitting at the table in the middle, wearing a warm sweater and enjoying a midnight snack. He looks better than when Ford saw him in the summer. Happier, as evident with the bright smile he sends his son’s way. 

Fiddleford’s eyes slide to Stan and Ford and he blinks. He keeps on smiling. “Why hello, strangers. Been awhile since I’ve seen you in these parts.” 

“Hey, McGucket,” Stan says, breezily entering the kitchen as if he owned the place. He starts making a cup of coffee. “We happened to be in the neighborhood.” 

“Dad, they were trying to TP the house,” Tate says, dryly. 

Fiddleford lets out a hoot of laughter and slaps his leg. “Did they even make it past the first roof?” 

“Not even close,” Tate answers, finally smiling. 

“We would have figured it out eventually,” Ford argues. 

Fiddleford looks at him fondly, “Not before the police arrived.” 

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right, McGucket. We should have TP’d the inside of the house. Better reaction and it would have been easier with all the chandeliers. In fact, Tate? Have you ever TP’d the inside of a house before?” Stan asks, coffee ready in hand. 

“Can’t say I have, Stan,” Tate says, amused. He accepts the cookies and coffee that’s shoved into his hands. 

“Great!” Stan exclaims. He leads Tate out of the room, but not before dropping the rest of the snacks in the kitchen table. “We’ll be rectifying that gap in education and leave you two alone.” 

They’re gone seconds later, their voices disappearing down the hallway. Ford can hear Stan’s booming laughter and Tate’s softer, but clearly amused voice underneath. 

When they’re finally alone, Fiddleford softly pats the chair next to him. Ford makes his way and slides into the seat. They face the table, not looking at each other. Fiddleford calmly sips his drink. 

“Would you like to make yourself something, Ford?” 

Ford startles. His eyes automatically slide to Fiddleford. The man looks serene and untroubled. Ford pulls his eyes away. 

“I’m afraid not, I don’t-” Ford purses his lips, how to explain without giving too much away, “- consume liquids anymore.” 

“Cookie, then?” Fiddleford pushes the plate closer to him. 

“I don’t- eat,” the words stumble out of Ford’s mouth. 

Fiddleford’s face screws up in distaste. He shoots Ford a look. “Just because you forget you’re a functioning human being, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat. We’re not in college anymore.”

Ford chuckles. “I don’t think anyone was meant to live off coffee and corned beef, we were lucky to get through undergrad, Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford laughs, “Yeah. Remember when the coffee machine broke and instead of finding another one, we decided to make a new machine out of parts in the dorm room?”

“Yes! How could I forget? I thought the coffee we made opened my third eye and I saw the future!”

“And I thought I had another set of arms, but I couldn’t understand why I kept dropping things!” 

They laugh, even though their memories are still spotty from that day. It had not been a wise decision to try and create a coffee machine when they had been awake for days. There were still days when Ford couldn’t tell if a memory was from that weird-coffee dream or his trip in the multiverse. 

“Tell me more about how things have been, Ford,” Fiddleford says when their laughter runs out. 

Ford’s smile, wobbles. He’s had some worries, things he wasn’t too sure he could talk about to Stan. But he should be able to talk to Fiddleford about his worries. He’ll tell Stan later, he just need to restructure his thoughts, say them aloud, and practice. 

“Well, I’m actually a copy of Ford if you can believe that,” he says, keeping his tone light. 

Fiddleford eyes him, “Shapeshifter or pod person?”

Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to bring it to Fiddleford’s attention. The man was looking at him a bit warily. After all, his idea of learning about a conspiracy was to become an amnesiac and create a cult. 

“A copy, actual. I’m made of ink and-“ he gives a wave, “-something else.” 

Surprisingly, Fiddleford lets out a giggle. “I should have known it was something like that when you refused the coffee.” 

Ford lets out a weak laugh too. “Too true, my friend.” 

“Where’s the original then?” Fiddleford asks. 

“Off on another adventure,” Ford replies. A sanitized version is easier to explain. 

“I see. And you’re here to…?” 

“Enjoy my last night as a living being. I don’t think we’ll last the night,” Ford says with a gusty sigh. There, he said it aloud. He didn’t think he could admit it, but he did. Stan was taking the situation well, maybe too well. He always had this fatalistic sense of humor and threw himself into danger so easily like it was second nature. Stan’s gotten better on not being so suicidal, but it’s probably an influence from the kids.

He on the other hand, had qualms about their situation. He wanted to survive. 

“That’s quitter talk.” 

Fiddleford's words pull him out of his reverie. 

“You’ve always been one to move forward, what’s stopping you now?” Fiddleford says. 

Ford stares at his face, but there’s nothing but honesty on his friends face. 

“Do you mind if I tell you all my reasons?” 

“Go ahead, I’m listening.” 

“Even though they number in the thousands?” 

“You wouldn’t be you if they didn’t. Just tell me some juicy stuff about yourself and we’ll call ourselves square.” 

Ford gave him a weak chuckle and began to tell him everything. 


	6. Originals3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 Summary: Back to the originals. Stan remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: ~1k
> 
> Date Published: 4/17/19

They have an adventure in the spaceship without any kidnappings, without coming to harm, and without any existential crises. It’s a pleasant surprise and one that Ford is hoping to continue. However he had been on edge for the whole adventure, most likely due to the fact that his partner was not his usual self. 

Over and over again, Ford had been reminded that the man by his side was not his brother. Stan without his memories was a little bit more high-strung, a little less trusting, and quicker to react. Normally, Stan would relax a little more in his presence and they would work as a team, but not this Stan. 

As much as an interesting experience this is, he misses his Stan. (Even as this Stan grins at him widely and laughs he still wants his Stan back.) He wonders what it will take to get Stan’s memories back. Maybe a trip back to the Mystery Shack is what Stan needs. 

While they talk about their adventure, Ford lets out a huge fake yawn, mouth wide, arms stretching. 

“You getting tired already? The night's still young,” Stan asks. 

“The night may be young, but I’m not,” Ford says jokingly. 

Stan takes a step towards him as if he wants to do- something, but hesitates. He steps back and pretends that he hadn’t made a move. 

Stan gives him a grin instead, “Then what do you wanna do, old timer?” 

Ford scoffs. “You’re the same age as me, Stan. But if you’re fine with it, I’m ready to go home.” 

Home. Stan mouths the word, but doesn’t allow any doubt to betray his features. 

“Let’s go then,” Stan says, jogging over to the motorcycle. 

He revs it before Ford is even on. Ford stays silent and jogs over. He gets on and loops his arms around Stan’s middle. 

Stan takes off. 

Stan’s showboating again, cranking out incredible speeds and weaving through obstacles with incredible dexterity. The moves he’s making are dangerous for a man that’s almost legally blind. At least, that’s what Ford tells himself when he finds himself clinging onto Stan’s back. (Pressed up tightly against him, Ford is molded against his back. The feel of Stan’s body against his, combined with the vibration of ride is stimulating.)

Stan lets out a laugh and goes even faster, causing Ford to cling even tighter. 

They pull into the forest and Ford is about to scold Stan when the whole bike lifts into the air. The scolding turns into a yell, while Stan cackles madly. 

After an eternity, they land with a bump. Surprisingly the bike doesn’t fall apart on impact, but keeps going. Once Ford regains control of his limbs, he whacks Stan and yells at him to slow down. 

With a chuckle, Stan slows down, but doesn’t stop. When the bike slows to normal (and safe) speeds, Ford lets himself relax. They drive like this for awhile, leisurely, before pulling onto a familiar road where they eventually reach the Mystery Shack. They roll up to the entrance way and Ford watches as Stan takes in the building. 

The bike is parked next to the Shack, but when Ford goes to unlock the door Stan isn’t behind him. Instead the man is still looking at the front of the Shack. Ford gestures toward the couch. Stan catches the movement, following the gesture, and moves to sit. Stan takes a seat in his usual spot. It’s fascinating how well the body knows even if the mind doesn’t. Ford takes a seat next to him. 

The night is cold, but Stan isn’t perturbed. He settles further into the couch, crossing his arms, and sinking into the cushions. The combination of the wind ruffling his hair and his forlorn expression makes Ford ache. 

It’s not an unfamiliar expression to Ford. Stan is much more thoughtful and pensive than most people would think. Many a time has Ford seen Stan lean against the railing of the Stan O’ War, deep in thought. Just like this, a soft expression on his face and his hair tousled from the sea air.  

But unlike now, Ford would be able to reach over and touch him. He could ruffle Stan’s hair, getting sea salt on his hands. Or he could gently cup his cheek and Stan would turn towards him, his expression slowly turning into a bright smile. If the ache he was feeling was particularly strong then he could kiss the expression away. 

Ford can’t do that now. 

The ache grows stronger and Ford clenches his hands. The nails from his six fingers digs into his palms, but it’s a familiar pain. He uses the pain to carefully reign in all his emotions. His feelings don’t matter now. 

Nothing is more important than taking care of Stan in this moment. 

The wind picks up and Ford shivers lightly. He slowly unclenches his hands. He lightly blows on his hands, trying to keep them warm. In the rush, neither he nor his copy had the foresight to grab gloves. He has to be careful, his sixth fingers are prone to getting numb. 

Stan picks up on the movement and looks towards him. His gaze is immediately drawn towards his six-fingered hands, his expression unreadable. 

Ford freezes at the attention, unsure how Stan will proceed. 

A moment of silence turns into an eternity for Ford, but Stan simply grabs his hands and shoves them under his armpits. “You should have dressed up warmer, no need to have rushed on my account.”

They’re closer in this position and Ford can see how Stan is concerned for him, even though he has the more worrisome problems. 

The ache is too strong to resist and Ford can’t help but give in, leaning in to give Stan a kiss. 

When Ford pulls away, he doesn’t get too far because Stan’s arms are around him. Stan’s expression is bewildered. Ford’s heart sinks. The man had amnesia, kissing him was in bad form. 

But then Stan’s expression smoothes and turns to wonder. “Oh,” Stan breathes out. “I remember.”


	7. The aftermath. (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the chapter that everyone's waiting for, lol. The NSFW chapter. 
> 
> Word Count: ~2.9k
> 
> Date Published: 4/25/19

Stan’s memories have come back, he’s good and recovered, but Ford is hovering. He doesn’t do anything obvious, but Ford has a few tells. He keeps looking for escape routes and then realizes they only work for one. He maintains a very specific distance and he keeps stealing glances at Stan (as if Stan can’t tell that he’s using a reflective surface to look at him, honestly). Stan just barely holds off rolling his eyes. However, they’ve done this song and dance enough times that Stan knows what to do. It’s always better to let Ford’s protective tendencies go, or Ford will resort to the big guns. 

Thank goodness the copies don’t hover. They appeared out of nowhere, but they maintain a respectful distance. Now all of them have made it back to the Mystery Shack in one piece. 

Once inside, Ford tenses, and Stan can tell his brother is about to run around the Shack like a madman to ‘secure the perimeter.’ Stan’s not sure what this will entail, since the only times he’s lost his memories has been on the boat. 

“Go take a shower.”CopyStan says, gently giving him a push towards the stairs. 

“We’ll secure the perimeter,” CopyFord offers. Then before Ford can say otherwise, the copies go ahead and do exactly that. 

Ford shoots them a look, but must trust them enough to leave them to the job. Then Ford turns all his focus to Stan. 

Great. 

It’s probably for the best. Left alone, Ford would probably mount a sci-fi laser grid to the Shack. (It had happened once on the boat. When Stan had regained his memories, he had found that the Stan O’ War had been transformed, death rays included.)

CopyStan can probably control CopyFord. To an extent. Enough that he doesn’t have to worry about death rays. 

He shoves the thought out of mind, and comes to find the shower ready and waiting for him. Ford is testing the temperature and sends a worried glance his way. 

Stan starts getting undressed and Ford moves out of the way. He places his glasses somewhere safe, kicks some of his clothes off, and throws the rest in Ford’s face. Ford yelps, and Stan takes the chance to get in. 

The water is hot, just how he likes it and he takes a moment to enjoy the fact that it’s (relatively) limitless. His skin heats up, but he wonders if it’s from Ford’s gaze instead of the water. Even without turning he knows that his brother is looking over him closely. 

Stan sighs.

When Ford’s worried, he likes to stare at the scar on his shoulder instead of admiring the fine manly specimen in front of him.

Stan should show him what he’s missing. 

He hunches over, letting out a soft grown. Immediately For rushes to his side. Taking advantage of Ford’s inertia, Stan quickly yanks his brother in, clothes and all. Ford stumbles over the side of the tub and Stan hoists him in and has him in a bear hug. 

Surprisingly, the first thing that Ford does is: absolutely nothing. 

Instead, Ford huffs in his ear and rights himself. He continues to lean into him and allows his arms to gently encircle Stan, returning the hug. It’s an odd situation. Ford simply stands there under the stream of water, allowing himself to get soaked. His clothes are absorbing water. His glasses are digging into the side of Stan’s head. The only sounds in the room are the running water and Ford’s soft breathing in his ear.  

Eventually Stan realizes that Ford is still wearing his boots. Slowly, he pulls away. 

“Go take your boots off, you’re getting the place filthy,” Stan jokes weakly. 

Ford nods and dutifully strips. His clothes, including his boots, go into a wet bundle on the floor. His glasses go next to Stan’s. Then he gently runs the water over the bottom of the tub until it runs clean. 

Ford takes a step closer. 

This is a quieter and sadder Ford than Stan is used to. It’s a side of his brother that was probably hidden to him in their early years. And Stan has the impression that Ford often fell into melancholy in his thirty years away from home. The presence of the kids and all the drama of his return had Ford being his usual talkative, nerdy self, but every once in awhile Ford will get into a mood. 

Ford’s incredibly close now. Stan doesn’t even need his glasses to look at the details of his face, his mouth, and his eyes. Ford stares openly, unashamed. 

Stan runs a wet hand over Ford’s face and hair, making the man sputter. His body had been blocking the spray, keeping Ford’s top half dry, but he moves now, soaking him further. 

Stan grabs the soap and starts creating some suds. 

Ford glares at him and grumbles. He snatches the soap away. Then he grabs the shampoo and dumps it on Stan’s head. 

“Hey-”

“Shut up,” Ford snaps. “Let me do this.”

Stan shuts his mouth in surprise. He’s always surprised when Ford gets into one of his controlling moods. Ford can get so adamant about doing what he wants, which right now, is helping him shower. After Ford brushes his hands away several times, Stan lets him take over. His hair is washed and his skin is scrubbed. He’s getting a bit pruney, but he won’t stop Ford’s fun. As far as well-adjusted coping mechanisms go, helping another person shower isn’t too bad. 

Ford’s scrubbing turns into a gentle massage and Stan leans into his hands. 

Then Ford gets onto his knees in front of him. 

The difference between Ford standing in front of him and Ford standing below him doesn’t register at first. He blinks, but Ford is still there, on his knees, staring up at him with unreadable eyes. 

“If I knew I was gonna get some, then I would have showered sooner,” Stan says. 

Ford shakes his head with a wry smile. “You wish. I’m simply doing a thorough job.”

True to his word, Ford continues to wash him with brisk movements. Although his hands may linger with care, the touch isn’t sexual. However, that doesn’t stop from Stan’s interest from rising (in a very literal way). A hand slides over the curve of his ass and Ford raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Go ahead,” Stan says with fake bravado. 

And Ford goes ahead, sudding up his hands before sliding his fingers between Stan’s cheeks. Stan has to grip the sides of the tub. It stops his hands from immediately going to Ford’s hair (and also keeps him from collapsing as his knees get weak). It’s a good idea, because Ford seeks out his entrance, running circles around it. 

Stan grips the tub harder. 

“Really, Stanley?” Ford says with a smirk. 

“Don’t call me ‘Stanley.’” 

He braces himself and after he’s secure, one of the Ford’s fingers slides inside him. The touch is teasing, but Stan doesn’t care about that now. What he cares about is that Ford’s other hand isn’t touching Stan, it’s touching Ford. The other hand is clearly working Ford open. Suddenly, the finger inside him isn’t enough. 

“Ford-” Stan bites out, but has to suck in a breath when he feels a second finger added to the first. The touch is no longer teasing, but a steady pressure inside him. 

Does he rock back against the fingers and try to find relief? Maybe press his hips forward and have Ford take his cock in his mouth? 

Ford curls his fingers and Stan moans. 

Definitely not enough. 

“Fuck, come on, Ford.”

“I apologize, did you want something, Stanley?” 

Stan wants to say argue or maybe agree, but when he sees the smug jerk on his knees, fingering himself, he knows that he doesn't want things to end so quickly. Stan swats Ford’s hand away and Ford retracts his fingers. The loss is frustrating, but not as frustrating as finishing this early. 

“Let’s get to a bed,” Stan says, pulling his brother up. 

“Okay,” Ford readily agrees. 

Hurriedly, they clean up and dry off. Their towels and their clothes are left on the ground for later. There are more important things right now. 

Stan gets to the bed, throwing himself on top of it. He’s spread out on his back, trying to take up as much space as possible. 

Ford takes his time getting to the bed, grabbing a bottle of lube along the way and placing it atop of the nightstand. Then he gets on the bed, maneuvering himself so he’s above Stan. His hands are positioned so that at any time, they can hold Stan’s wrists in place. 

Stan doesn’t move, simply smiles up at Ford. 

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Ford says. It’s a statement, not a question. 

Stan shrugs, turning it into a stretch where he gently brushes against Ford’s body. 

“Good,” Ford says, before leaning in to give Stan a kiss. 

Stan leans into the kiss, pressing up against Ford. Ford grinds down onto him and Stan responds by pushing his tongue into Ford’s mouth. In moments, Ford’s tangles his fingers in Stan’s hair, holding him close. Stan grabs onto Ford’s hips, rocking against him. Ford is hard against his thigh, and he brings a leg up to tease him. 

Making a tactical decision, Ford pulls away, immediately grasping Stan’s cock. 

“Fuck!” Stan startles, but Ford’s free hand is there to soothe him and force him to lay on the bed. The other hand maintains a firm grip on him. He flexes his six fingers and Stan shivers at the movement. 

Ford gathers himself so he’s sitting in between Stan’s legs, their cocks almost close enough to touch. He begins to stroke Stan lightly, enjoying the feel of the cock in his hand. 

Stan’s hands grasp the sheets. Ford uses his free hand to grab one, intertwining their fingers. Stan’s other free hand goes up to clench at his pillow. 

Ford speeds up his hands and Stan’s hip bounce on the bed to increase the sensation. He’s thinking he should take advantage of the precum that’s starting to leak from Stan’s cock, spread it across the head and the shaft so he increase his speed, when there’s a knock on the wall. He stutters to a stop and they both turn to look. 

“You two have already started without us?” CopyStan asks. He’s already starting to strip and is stalking towards them.

“Luckily, we caught you two in the early stages of copulation,” CopyFord continues. He closes the door and then also starts to remove his clothing. Oddly, he also snaps on some of his rubber gloves. 

CopyFord comes up behind Ford and presses up against him. He snags the lube for himself. One six-fingered hand encircles Ford’s cock while the other teases his entrance, similar to what he was doing to Stan in the shower. In fact, the movements were exactly the same. It’s more arousing than Ford wants to admit and he finds himself breathing harshly at the touch. Even the gloves are more of a turn-on then turn-off. 

The touch is indescribably his own, but not his own hands. Ford squirms at how good it feels, and his copy holds him in place. 

“That’s right, Stanford,” his copy says. “I know what you like. I know how to stroke you and your ego.”

Ford swallows. Perhaps only in this respect has he enjoyed having six-fingers. It’s something he’s never admitted aloud. Having the words, his thoughts, out in the open makes him heat up. He wishes it was due to the copies ministrations, but the heat isn’t just concentrated around his cock, but spread across his whole body making him flush. 

A particularly rough jerk has him gasping. 

“That’s right, I have the upper hand,” the copy says into his ear. 

Stan laughs and drinks in the sight of Ford being manipulated so easily. Ford often kept things close to his chest, sometimes without even realizing it. It was good to hear these things aloud. 

However, he stops laughing when CopyStan rolls a condom onto Stan’s cock. 

“Don’t want to melt in the middle of this, it would be a total mood killer,” the copy says with a wink. 

Yikes. The imagery makes him flag, but the copy’s skilled hand gets him hard in seconds. 

The copy chuckles. “Yeah, I know what you like too. And you know that I’m the best at this,” he says, giving Stan’s cock a kiss. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of both of you,” Ford’s copy says. 

Then Stan’s copy smoothly slides lubed fingers inside Stan. The intrusion is rather sudden, but meets no resistance. His breath hitches at how he was filled so quickly. Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, the copy is also wearing surgical gloves. Stan can tell that they’re his fingers, but the combination of the angle and the gloves, really sets it apart from when he pleasures himself. Oh yeah, he’s getting really turned on by this. 

“Ready for it, huh?” CopyStan says. 

“Then let’s continue.” CopyFord replies. 

CopyStan pulls his fingers out, but keeps his hand there, cupping Stan’s ass and then spreading it. CopyFord grips Ford’s cock and brings it to Stan’s entrance. He rubs Ford’s cock in circles against Stan’s entrance. They both groan and jump at the contact. 

The copy brings Ford’s cock so it brushes against Stan’s balls and then his cock. The slide of skin against flesh is wonderful, but it isn’t what either of them need. His cock is guided back down and pressed against Stan. They line them up and Ford’s cock is slowly worked inside Stan. 

Ford’s copy uses his other hand to hold Ford in place. He sets the pace, using his own hips to dictate when and how hard Ford should thrust. Slowly, Ford’s cock sinks into Stan. Ford groans at the heat and the gentle pace. Not being in control, not having Stan in control, is an experience he’s enjoying. 

Meanwhile, Stan’s copy has one hand fondling Stan’s balls while the other holds his cock in place. He’s lavishing attention to the head of Stan’s cock. However, they're light touches, teasing, and brings him no relief. Along with the slow pace of the cock that’s fucking him, Stan feels like he’s being opened up from the inside out. 

Stan’s is being filled inch by inch and it isn’t long before he can feel Ford’s balls brush against him. He must be close to bottoming out. 

Stan squirms, because his body aches. He knows what Ford’s cock is like, knows that he’s not completely filled. 

The copy that has his mouth wrapped around his cock hums and then starts in earnest on his cock. 

“Oh fuck!” 

There are lips tightly wrapped around him and an enthusiastic tongue lapping at the underside of the head of his cock. 

Ford stares at Stan’s copy and smiles. He knows first-hand how good Stan’s blowjobs are. Stan won’t last long.

Then Ford feels his copy move behind him. The hard cock that has been pressed between his cheeks the whole time- shifts. There’s the sound of a condom being unwrapped and then- oh. His copy- his cock is pressed against his entrance. The cock is lubed and drawing the same circles that he did for Stan. 

He wasn’t that close before, but the extra ministrations are enough to put him on edge. 

CopyFord grabs Ford’s hips. Then the head of the cock pushes pass Ford’s entrance. Ford let’s his head roll back so that it’s being supported by his copy. With a shift, the cock moves so that it pulls out just so, and the head pops out. The copy squeezes Stan’s hip then pushes them both forward. The head slides back in and Ford bottoms out in Stan. 

“Fuck!” Stan cries out. 

Stan rolls his hips up. That final inch of Ford’s cock hitting him just so is exactly what Stan needed to come. His copy swallows his cock completely and cups his balls. Ford moves in shallow thrusts, barely pulling out. 

It’s perfect and he tips his head back as he comes. And then-

“I’m coming,” Ford says breathlessly. 

Ford comes inside Stan’s warmth and groans as he can feel his condom fill and surround his cock. And Stan can feel him twitching inside him, coming inside him. Ford finds his hands in CopyStan’s hair, keeping him in place, making sure that his mouth stays on Stan’s cock. 

When they’re both done, CopyStan withdraws. Stan jumps when the copy teases his sensitive cock. Then CopyFord pulls away, and Ford groans when he feels the cock slide out of him. They can’t move, can barely think, and can feel themselves getting tired. It’s been a long day and the sex was good. 

The copies clean them up, throw a sheet over them, and turn off the light before slipping away. 

Ford feels as if he should keep an eye on them, but doesn’t want to move, especially when Stan was starting his tradition of being an octopus post-coitus. Stan moves around until Ford is laying on Stan’s side, his head pillowed on Stan’s shoulder. Stan brushes a gentle kiss against Ford’s hair. 

Ford wraps his body around Stan. 

“I love you, you know,” Ford says into the dark. 

Stan kisses his hair again. “I know. I love you too, thanks for coming for me.”

“Always.”

And with that they drift off to sleep. 


	8. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And all the trouble comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date Published: 5/6/19
> 
> Word Count: ~500

Stan wakes up with a snort, wondering what woke him. A split second later, Ford sits up completely alert. His brother looks around warily, but doesn’t react violently. Stan figures it must not be serious. He’s about to go back to sleep, when he hears the sound of people moving outside heir room. Stan rouses himself again. Soos and the others can’t be back, can they?

Suddenly, Stan can tell he’s sticky and has bodily fluids flaking on his body. The sheets are a mess. Actually the whole room is a mess, there are just objects knocked everywhere, clothes strewn about, and the whole place smells of sex.  

Ford places a calm hand on his shoulder. “I’ll check it out,” he whispers. 

“Not without me,” Stan shoots back. 

No time to get dressed,they grab a weapon each and head to the door. With a swift kick, Ford has the door open and they both aim at the intruders. 

“Guys, seriously, you’re not even dressed?” CopyStan says. 

CopyFord gaze skims over them. “Now, now, Stanley, they just got out of bed.” 

Despite knowing that this was Ford, Stan moves to cover himself. After declaring their feelings to each other last night, it didn't feel right to give someone else a free show (even if it was CopyFord). 

“Eyes to yourself,” Ford snaps. Apparently he felt the same way. At least he threw something on before leaving the bed. 

The CopyFord looked away, while CopyStan snorted. “We’re heading out,” the Stan said. 

“What? Where?” Ford asks, shocked. 

The copy shrugs. “Away.” 

“We’re thinking about traveling the multiverse,” the Ford adds. 

“But- you’re my copy. I mean, haven’t you had enough of other dimensions?” Ford looks bewildered at the direction the conversation has turned. 

Stan, though, slowly nods. 

“Well, we won’t be bumping into each other then, if that’s the case,” Stan says. 

“Amen,” the other Stan says. 

“I- well, this is highly unusual-“ 

“Ford, let it go,” Stan says, grabbing onto his wrist. He gives his twin a tug back towards the bedroom. He shoots the copies a look. “Now don’t go robbing us blind.” 

The CopyFord solemnly nods, while CopyStan gives him a mock salute. They grab their bags (Stan is going to have to check what they took, he’s probably going to be missing some of his favorite clothes damnit) and head out. Their exit is rather anticlimactic, but Stan takes it as a sign that they should enjoy the downtime before the next adventure. 

He looks back at Ford who has an expression on his face that Stan can’t quite describe. Something between jealousy and sadness. 

“I bet they’re going to the XZ-Beta7,” Ford says, sounding petulant. 

Stan raises an eyebrow. 

“A highly sought out gambling dimension,” Ford clarifies. 

For a moment, Stan feels a rush of excitement before calming down. A gambling universe is only second place to the family he’s created. And the copies know that too. Stan wishes them luck and hopes they have a great time before their inevitable melting. (He hadn’t even considered they would survive the sex, but he’s glad for them.)

“Gambling is great and all, but I think we have a date with a bed right now,” Stan says, leading the way to the room. 

“Lead the way.”


	9. Extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The copies meet Rick and Morty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags/Warnings: Rick/Stan/Ford, RickStanwich, mentions of sex, fade to black 
> 
> Date Published: 5/6/19
> 
> Word Count: ~500

“Whazzzup FuckNuts?” 

Stan and Ford are taking their time enjoying one of the leisure dimensions, when a familiar voice greets them. They should have known that the first time they would meet a Rick would be at a bar. 

Rick stumbles in between them and signals for a drink. 

“Really, Rick? You should watch your language in front of Morty,” Ford scolds when he sees Morty give them a tentative wave. 

“Morty? What happened to Beth?” Stan asks, even as he’s signaling for something non-alcoholic for the kid. 

Morty takes a seat next to Stan, looking at the two of them curiously. Stan hands him the drink and Ford waves hello. Morty does a double take and looks over at Ford to count his fingers. 

“Re-really? That’s the first thing you two say to me? Not: ‘How are you doing, Rick?’ Or, ‘Good to see you, Rick. Glad to see you’re alive.’ Nothing?” Rick says, swinging his drink around. 

Ford dodges the drink, while Stan carefully pries it away from Rick’s hand. Rick is about to give Stan a piece of his mind, when Stan chucks Rick under the chin and says, “Long time no see, handsome.”

Morty chokes on his drink, while Ford rolls his eyes. Rick’s teeth click together and his eyes widen in surprise. Stan wiggles his eyebrows. 

After a moment, Rick seems to collect himself and brushes Stan’s hand away. 

“What the- what was that for? I’m not some fl-floozy that will fall for your lines,” Rick says, clearly flustered. 

“Uh huh,” Stan says, grinning. 

“Oh, I don’t want to know,” Morty mumbles. 

“Morty, I’d love to catch up, do some manly bonding, but there’s someone- something I’ve got to do first. Here you go,” Stan says and proceeds to shove a large handful of credits in the boy’s hand. His eyes grow large. “Don’t spend them all in one place, kid. Oh and here, take this too just in case,” Stan says handing him a space gun. 

“Sweet! Thanks!” Morty jumps to his feet. He’s gone in seconds, excited to spend the credits (Rick never gives him money) and he knows where he’s not wanted. 

“Don’t- don’t be bribing my grandson,” Rick protests, weakly as an arm snakes around his waist. Ford gently boxes Rick in and places a hand on Rick’s elbow. 

“Don’t worry, Rick. You’ll always be his grandfather, but we’ll be his cool grunkles,” Stan teases. 

“And we wanted some time alone, correct? It was the best solution,” Ford adds. 

“Are you- are you joking? Now he’ll be bu- bugging me about things like money and allowances, ugh,” Rick grumbles, but he’s now eyeing the two that are sandwiching him. 

Stan and Ford share a look. 

“It can’t be helped. We’ll have to make it up to you, so to speak.”

“Yup. Can’t go go having debts hanging over our heads.”

“What- what do you guys have in mind?”

-000-

“Wow.” 

Rick’s eyes are wide as he lays boneless in the bed. “Wow,” he repeats. 

“Heh. Have we made you speechless?” Stan says from one side. 

“Wow.”

“A miracle,” Ford says dryly form the other side. 

Rick starts struggling to sit up. 

“Everything okay, Rick?” Stan asks. 

“We- we gotta go another round,” Rick says, getting on top of Stan. 

“It’s okay, Rick. We’ll be traveling the multiverse for awhile. This doesn’t have to be our last time together.” 

“Yeah?”

“That’s right.”

“Thank god.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoyed the fic~~~ These were some pretty fun prompts to work with. 
> 
> So like I mentioned before, this was for the Stancest Secret Santa Exchange and I made some pretty big changes to this ao3 version. For example, I broke up the chapters the way I did to: keep the chapters separate when it was the originals and the copies, but also to kinda keep the additions from the original written story separate. 
> 
> For example, the original story only contained Chapters 1, 2, the beginning of 4, 6, 7, and 8. There are some things I liked about the original, but the new version has some good parts too. 
> 
> I'll be posting the original work soon so be on the lookout for that.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Original - Double the Fun, Trouble to Come](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18739183) by [NightFoliage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFoliage/pseuds/NightFoliage)




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